


I Wish You Love

by 9fn432



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Depression, M/M, self injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-29
Updated: 2012-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-06 05:49:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9fn432/pseuds/9fn432
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entry for the HP-Emofest 2011 Xmas Mini Prompt Fest. The original prompt was: Unrequited love. Harry and most of his year return for their '8th' year. He slowly falls in love with Draco but Draco is straight and doesn't return his feelings. COMPLETE</p><p>This is my second ever fic for the 2011 Christmas Mini Prompt Fest. Can be found at hp-emofest dot livejournal dot com. Arn24601 also did some fantastic sketches, they can also be found on the hp-emofest livejournal entry.</p><p>Prompt: Unrequited love. Harry and most of his year return for their '8th' year. He slowly falls in love with Draco but Draco is straight and doesn't return his feelings.</p><p>Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I make profit from this work of fanfiction. Sadly Harry and Draco belong to JK Rowling, I just borrow them for my own nefarious and cathartic purposes. Nor do I own the song that gives the title to this work of fanfiction. They belong to Léo Chauliac, Charles Trenet, Albert A Beach and Rachael Yamagata who did a beautiful cover of the song. A link to my favourite version can be found on the original hp-emofest livejournal entry.</p><p>Warning: Mild coarse language, references to self-harm, depression, slash. There is no guarantee of a HEA.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I must give heartfelt thanks to my wonderful beta Maureen, who pointed out many an error or inconsistency, and held my hand through the writing and editing process. Thanks also goes to Megan and Melissa who encouraged me through the process. And finally thanks to Liz for your encouragement and support and pre-reading. You do amazing work and have been an inspiration.

Harry stared out the window, watching a lone figure pace around the lake. Hermione had her nose buried in a textbook, and Ron was absorbed in a heated discussion about the cancellation of Quidditch with Dean Thomas. It all felt like some kind of bizarre dream. On the surface, everything looked normal, but underneath Harry was in turmoil. His thoughts kept turning back to Fred's funeral, the quiet but devastating pain in George's eyes as he stood, back ramrod straight, supporting his mother. Harry had one arm slung around Ginny, the other hand buried in his robes and clenched in a tight fist as he fought to keep his composure.

He jerked himself out of his reverie and dragged his rough fingernails along the inside of his left forearm, relishing the burn as his skin tore under the pressure. The sting of tears in his eyes faded as pain blossomed on his arm.

"Alright, Harry?"

He schooled his features into what he hoped was a small smile and glanced across at Hermione. "Yeah, 'm alright." He rose from his seat and donned his cloak. "I'm going out for a walk," he stated, swiftly leaving the room to avoid speaking further, not seeing Hermione's shrewd gaze.

The atmosphere at Hogwarts was oppressive. Everywhere Harry looked he saw fear and pain and death. During the extended summer holidays, the Ministry had worked quickly to restore the school to its former glory. Walls had been rebuilt, rubble cleared away, portraits repaired, statues restored and armour polished. To a newcomer it was bright and airy, a welcoming place, but to anyone who had been there during the battle there was no way to erase the scars from their memories. Harry still heard the screams in the great hall. He could still hear the anguished cries of the Weasleys as they grieved over Fred's lifeless body. He could still see Remus and Tonks, lying silent and still. He choked back a sob and ran out into the snow, seeking solitude and escape from the memories that plagued him.

Breathless from his flight, Harry sank down into a crouch, leaning against the wall of the boathouse. His pulse thundered in his ears, chest heaving, lungs burning from the frigid air. The ghost of Colin Creevey flickered through his mind, triggering an overwhelming surge of emotion. Hot tears poured down his face and rage bubbled to the surface. It wasn't supposed to _be_ this way. A sudden burning, stinging sensation in his knuckles alerted Harry to the fact that he had punched the ground, leaving a red stain in the snow that slowly turned pink as it spread. He gave in to the urge and scraped the already torn knuckles against the wall of the boathouse, ravaging his skin further. As the physical pain increased, his raging emotions receded, leaving a blessed numbness in their wake.

"They'll make you see a Mind Healer if you keep that up," a dry voice broke through his introspection. Harry looked up to see Draco Malfoy leaning back against the boathouse, a cigarette in one hand and smoke curling from his mouth. He quickly moved to cover his bloody hand. "Don't worry, I won't tell," Malfoy reassured him.

Harry turned his gaze to the lake. "Thanks," he murmured, unsure how to deal with an almost friendly Malfoy. He pushed himself up and rose to lean against the wall next to the blonde, feeling more comfortable being at the same level.

"Smoke?" Malfoy offered. Harry shook his head. "Filthy muggle habit, I know, but it keeps me sane." He took another drag. "If you're not going to heal that hand, I'd suggest a glamour. Mother was furious when she saw my cuts over summer."

"Er, ok?" Harry stuttered, his agreement sounding more like a question. "Hang on, what cuts?" he asked, then flushed when he realised he was asking something personal of his nemesis.

Malfoy seemed unperturbed at the question. "These," he stated, and pulled up his left sleeve revealing numerous neat lines on his inner forearm in various stages of healing. Some were scabbed over, others an angry red, while others were almost silver on the boy's pale skin. "I'm trying to stop, but sometimes it gets too much," he offered conversationally. "It's about the only thing I feel I can control."

Harry was lost for words. Malfoy was talking to him, exposing something personal, like they were... friends? "Why are you telling me this?" he blurted out. "I mean, you're Malfoy. Don't you hate me?"

Malfoy shrugged, sucking one last time from the shrinking cigarette and dropping it to the ground. It made a brief sizzling sound as it hit the snow. "I don't hate you. Never did, really." He pulled a crumpled pack from his robes, withdrawing and lighting up another with his wand. "I've watched you since we came back. You can't make sense of it all, can you?"

Feeling uncomfortable, Harry stepped away and stared out at the lake, his back to Malfoy. For months he had been wrestling with the fallout from the war, feelings of guilt, feelings of failure. Sometimes he wished he hadn't come back. Voldemort was mortal once he had cast the killing curse at Harry. Hermione and Ron knew what had to be done. Harry could have moved on, been with his parents and Sirius. Guilt flooded him as he remembered his godson. Teddy Lupin would never know his parents. Harry knew what it was like to be an orphan; he did not want that for young Teddy, no matter how tormented he felt. "Nothing makes sense any more," he stated finally as he turned back to face Malfoy, "but no matter how much I want it all to stop, life just keeps on, doesn't it?"

Malfoy smirked. "Yeah, isn't the phrase 'stop the world, I want to get off'?"

Harry managed a small smile, the first genuine smile that had graced his face in months. "Something like that," he agreed. "I'd better be getting back, they'll be wondering where I am."

"Are you staying over Christmas?"

The question took Harry be surprise. "Dunno," he shrugged. "The Weasleys are expecting me, but I just don't know if I can do it this year."

"The orphans are staying. I have to stay and supervise, Ministry orders. I know McGonagall's asked you to help." Malfoy raked his fingers through his hair. "You should consider it. They're good kids. They'd love the 'Saviour' to be there."

The words had Harry bristling, and he searched Malfoy's face but didn't find a trace of sarcasm. "I'm not the 'Saviour'. If I was, they wouldn't be orphans," he spat bitterly.

"Don't get your knickers in a knot," Malfoy retorted. "I thought it might benefit you as much as them. Clearly you're too self absorbed. You should pull your head out of your arse, you're not the only one the war affected you know." He pushed away from the wall and started walking back to the castle. "Think about it. You never know, you might learn something." He stopped, turned and tossed the remains of his cigarette, banishing the butts with a flick of his wand. "Oh, and even if you're not going to heal that hand, you'd better at least clean it. If it gets infected, you won't be able to hold your wand." With that, he left at a brisk pace.

Harry stood, fuming and staring at Malfoy's retreating back. If he hadn't been so perplexed at the bizarre encounter, he might have realised he was mesmerised with the movement of Malfoy's robes over his arse.

**~TBC~**


	2. Chapter 2

"I'm sure, Hermione. It's their first Christmas without Fred, and Ginny's still dealing with our breakup," Harry tried hard to put on a brave face. He stood in the entrance hall with his friends and did his best to convince them. "It'll be uncomfortable. I don't want to make it worse."

Hermione cast a worried glance at Ginny, who was bidding a tearful goodbye to Luna in the entrance hall. "I'm sure she'll handle it, Harry. I don't think you should be alone at Christmas." Ron shifted uncomfortably beside her. He was handling Harry and Ginny's split almost as badly as his sister was.

"I won't be alone," he replied. "I'm helping with the orphans' Christmas program; I won't have time to feel lonely. Go, please. I'll be fine."

She searched his face for any sign of uncertainty and found none. Hermione flung her arms around her friend. "Owl me if you need, for anything, you understand?" she whispered.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. But yes, if I need you, I'll owl." He returned her hug and pushed her towards the entrance. "Now go, you'll miss the train." Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Give my love to your mum for me?"

"Yeah, I will," Ron muttered, "see ya Harry." He steered Hermione toward the door. Ginny peeled off from Luna, joining Ron and Hermione.

Harry felt a pang of regret when he realised Ginny hadn't even spared him a glance. Not that he blamed her, after the way he'd broken things off. He just didn't have it in him to continue their relationship. He didn't feel anything for her any more. Most of the time he didn't feel anything for anyone. Except, strangely, Malfoy.

The past two weeks had seen Harry swing from one extreme to another, but his confusion was a welcome reprieve from the depression that had plagued him since the end of the war. He had gone from barely noticing Malfoy to seeing him everywhere he looked. The Slytherin's behaviour was also perplexing. Instead of sneering at everyone in sight, lording himself over those he considered beneath him, he was polite, respectful, and while somewhat reserved, went out of his way to assist the first and second years in his house.

Despite persistent efforts by Professor McGonagall and the rest of the staff, there was an underlying hostility towards anyone wearing Slytherin robes, and this was particularly hard on the first and second year students who had not grown up with the earlier inter-house rivalry and prejudice. On more than one occasion, Harry had witnessed Malfoy step in to protect a younger Slytherin from bullying. He sported an air of indifference, but his actions were at odds with his projected persona. The first and second years viewed him with a sense of awe, and their attempts to emulate the Malfoy mask were almost... cute?

Harry snorted, bringing himself out of his thoughts. Malfoy? Cute? He shook his head and began walking back to the Gryffindor tower, intent on making the most of what little free time he had left before he was needed to supervise the first activity.

As expected, Harry had little time to himself during the Christmas break. The orphans' Christmas program was already tightly packed, and rare free moments were filled with the youngsters pleading with the adults to do this or that. This particular evening it had been an impromptu indoor football game after McGonagall had agreed to clear some space in the great hall and erect some magical barriers to prevent damage to the rest of the hall.

The game had started out friendly, with Harry and Malfoy taking the positions of goalie on each team, allowing the younger students to compete equally. Fifteen minutes into the game, however, Harry's concentration was broken as he became more and more aware of Malfoy's lithe movements. He was so distracted that Malfoy's team had little difficulty sneaking goal after goal past him, resulting in a whitewash. The kids were good-natured about it and elicited a promise from McGonagall for a rematch, _without_ Malfoy and Harry, before the New Year.

Harry lead the way to the Gryffindor tower, grateful that Malfoy was behind him. He was perturbed by his level of distraction. Their odd friendship had blossomed over the past few days, developing into a comfortable camaraderie. Conversations had remained light-hearted, never touching on that first discussion by the boathouse, much to Harry's relief. What he couldn't understand was why his eyes were continually drawn to Malfoy, who had taken to wearing muggle clothes which suited him better than Harry thought they should.

He reached the Fat Lady's portrait and said the password, ushering Malfoy through the portrait-hole. Harry flopped onto a couch in the common room, while Malfoy sat more gracefully, choosing an armchair and taking in his surroundings. "It's so... red!"

"And the Slytherin common room is so green," Harry declared sarcastically. "What's your point?"

Malfoy gaped at Harry. "When did you ever see the inside of the Slytherin common room?"

"Even if I hadn't been there, stands to reason it would be decorated in green, Malfoy. But I was there in second year. We... um... thought you were the Heir of Slytherin, and polyjuiced ourselves to try and prove it."

"You did what? When?" Malfoy sputtered. "Wait, polyjuice in your second year? Granger must have brewed it, didn't she?" Malfoy smirked, knowingly. "Who did you polyjuice into?"

"I was Goyle and Ron was Crabbe."

Comprehension dawned on Malfoy's face. "Hang on, was that Christmas day? I _thought_ Crabbe and Goyle were acting odd!" he exclaimed. "What about Granger?"

"Ahhh, Hermione was supposed to be Bulstrode, but there was a slight mishap," Harry chuckled. "She didn't realise that the hairs on her robe were from Bulstrode's cat. Polyjuice is only meant for..."

"Meant for human transformations," Malfoy interrupted gleefully. "Oh, I would have liked to have seen that! But how did I not _know_?"

Harry laughed. "You were a self absorbed prat! It was pretty easy to get it past you back then."

"I suppose I was a little self involved," Malfoy allowed, ignoring Harry's snort at his understatement. They sat in companionable silence for a few moments. "So is it helping? Working with the orphans?"

The question sobered Harry quickly. "I suppose. It was fun playing indoor football – I haven't run that much since, well, you know," his voice trailed off and he stared at the fire. "Malfoy, why are you doing this?"

Malfoy considered the question for a few moments. "This? This, helping the orphans? Or this, being nice to you?" he asked eventually.

"Either, both. We hated each other for so long, I just can't get my head around us getting on." Harry dropped his head into his hands. "I can't get my head around much these days." It was the most he had spoken about what he was thinking since the war.

"If we're going to talk about this, I need a drink. Do you have any firewhiskey stashed in here?"

Harry flicked his wand and murmered a quiet _Accio_. A bottle of Ogden's Best flew into the room. Conjuring two glasses, he poured a hefty amount into each glass, handing one to Malfoy.

"Thanks," Malfoy raised the glass in salute and took a large swallow, exhaling loudly as it went down.

Harry followed suit and waited as Malfoy toyed with the glass a few moments, watching the way the firelight flickered through the golden liquid.

After several minutes, Malfoy spoke, almost in a monotone. "My father," he paused, "Lucius, I believed him. I believed in him. So many things he taught me when I was younger made sense. Mudbloods," he glanced up at Harry's sudden intake of breath. "Sorry, muggleborns, it's hard to break the habit." At Harry's nod he continued. "Muggleborns create a risk to our way of life. I know some of our traditions might seem antiquated to you, but a lot of them are based in common sense."

Harry listened intently as Malfoy spoke of his childhood and how he had looked up to his father. He detailed his indoctrination, the arrival of the Dark Lord, the threats to his parents and how his mother's sister drove Lucius into madness.

"When you turned up at the Manor, I thought it was all over and Voldemort had won. I was almost relieved when you disarmed me... there was a chance again that you might win." He took a gulp of his third glass of firewhiskey and put the tumbler down with a little more force than necessary. "You did win, in the end. I never thanked you for that, Potter."

Harry flushed, still uncomfortable with any form of praise or gratitude for his role. Malfoy continued, "When you spoke at Mother's trial, and then at mine, I wanted to hate you, because you wouldn't speak at Lucius' trial as well. But when I heard the testimony start at his trial, I had to leave. I followed the rest of the trial in the _Prophet_ , and read a lot of the accompanying features." He stopped, his throat closing as he recalled the stories.

Harry poured more firewhiskey and handed Malfoy his glass again. "I remember those. I read one, then I banned copies of the _Prophet_ from the house," he muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Yeah, they were an eye-opener. I couldn't look Mother in the eye for days, I refused to see anyone, I stopped eating... that's when it started," Malfoy said, gesturing to his arm. "They weren't faceless _mudbloods_ anymore, the victims had names, faces. I started to understand..." he sat back, his hand over his mouth, unable to continue.

They sat in silence for some time, each boy worked to get his emotions under control. Harry pulled off his glasses and pressed his fingers to his eyes, in an effort to suppress the tide of grief and guilt. He started when a hand pressed down on his shoulder; Malfoy had moved noiselessly. A rustle of clothing made Harry look up to see Malfoy kneeling in front of him.

"Potter, don't let it consume you," he urged as he tugged Harry's hands from his face. "Do what you have to, to make it from day to day, but you need to find something, outside yourself, or inside yourself, to move forward." Harry stared at his own rough hands, held by pale, elegant fingers. "You saved Mother's life, my life. I don't know exactly what your demons are, but I can see your guilt eating you up from the inside. Find _something_ , Harry," he pleaded. "For me, the Ministry-ordered work with the orphans and the sessions with the Mind Healer, even though it's required for my probation, they helped me gain perspective." He suddenly realised he was kneeling and holding hands with another boy, and pulled away. "I don't have the answers, but if you keep busy, keep doing, you'll get by." He stood and turned away, staring into the fireplace.

Harry could only gape at Malfoy's back. He had used his first name. Malfoy never used his first name. He turned, and Harry quickly turned his gaze down to his own hands, which were tingling oddly.

"I'd better get back to my dorm." Malfoy raked his fingers through his hair, a move Harry was becoming rather familiar with. "Thanks for the drink. I'll see you at breakfast." With that, he strode to the portrait-hole and was gone.

**~TBC~**


	3. Chapter 3

With the start of the next term the eighth year students were swamped with work, the teachers pushing them harder in preparation for their NEWTs. January gave way to February, and Harry and Malfoy, or Draco, as he thought of him now, rarely found time together. Word of the cessation of their enmity spread through the school quickly after the Christmas break thanks to the praise of the orphans, though neither had been keen to reveal their friendship, not wishing to expose the other to public scrutiny. They managed to meet in the boathouse on a few occasions, sometimes just sitting and drinking firewhiskey while Draco chain-smoked cigarettes. Draco taught Harry how to play the Magical Symbols game in the _Daily Prophet_ , and helped Harry with his potions work. But mostly the silent support and understanding of the other was enough.

Hermione fretted over study schedules, while Ron slipped back into his usual carefree manner with Harry, discussing Quidditch and playing Wizard's Chess. Harry felt more at peace than he had in months, concentrating better in his classes, and though he still found it difficult to interact with his friends, he made a conscious effort. And he found a new distraction, albeit an unwelcome one. For some reason, he couldn't keep his eyes off Draco – whether within the same classroom, or across the great hall, Draco cut a striking figure that did not fail to draw his gaze. The way he walked, his fingers constantly running through his hair, the way his lips moved when he spoke, even the bob of his Adam's apple when he swallowed. Harry was becoming concerned that he was forming some kind of fixation, especially when he woke one morning after an intense dream, which he was sure had featured Draco, though he couldn't remember the details. The nature of the dream was no guess – the sticky feeling in his sleep pants answering that question.

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked, after she observed him putting salt in his tea. "Here, don't drink that!" She vanished the foul concoction and poured him another cup. "You seem awfully distracted, is there anything you want to talk about?"

Harry flushed, and took a gulp of the scalding beverage, causing him to choke. "It's nothing, 'Mione, just... that huge assignment for Charms." Harry glanced around the great hall, looking for a means of escape. "Er, I have to go, I need to catch up with Goldstein about the assignment. See you later," he stammered and he pushed away from the table and fled before Hermione could say anything more. She watched his retreating form, a crease between her brows.

Harry approached the Ravenclaw table, flustered and uncertain, and tapped Anthony Goldstein on the shoulder. "Hi... um, do you have time to work on that Charms assignment now?"

Goldstein took in his Charms partner's flushed appearance appraisingly. "Um, sure, I suppose. I'm not sure how much we can get in before our first class though."

"Oh... right, of course," Harry stuttered out. What was _wrong_ with him?

A slow smile spread on Goldstein's tanned face. "You have a free period after lunch, don't you? I've got one too, so we could meet in the library?"

Harry felt a warmth blossom in his chest at the other boy's smile, and gave Goldstein a tentative grin. "Sure, after lunch, in the library." For some reason he held out his hand for the other to shake.

Goldstein quirked an eyebrow as he shook Harry's hand, snickering softly. "See you then."

Harry stood there, for a moment, staring at his hand. Suddenly he snapped himself out of his stupor and hurried out of the great hall, hoping desperately not to embarrass himself further this morning.

Harry removed his glasses to rub his eyes in frustration, and slammed his book shut with his other hand. "I just don't _get_ it. Why won't the charms work together?"

Goldstein huffed, and pushed his notes in front of the Gryffindor. "Look. See how this part of the first charm would interact negatively with the wand movement of the second? They'd cancel each other out, and if by chance you added in a slight variation to the left or right of the prescribed movement, you'd likely hex your eyebrows off."

"Ok, show me again?" Harry replaced his glasses and leaned closer, poring over Goldstein's notes. The movement placed their heads mere inches apart, and suddenly he could feel the other boy's breath ghosting over his cheek, not an entirely unpleasant sensation.

"I think we need to take a break," Goldstein said, breathlessly. Harry glanced up and froze when he saw the way that Goldstein was staring at his lips. A surge of desire shot through him, and before he could stop to think about what he was doing, he leant forward, closing the space between them, and pressed their mouths together.

For a second Goldstein did nothing, and Harry was just about to pull back, when the Ravenclaw pressed forward just a little, moulding his mouth to Harry's. Their lips brushed back and forth, moist puffs of air mingling. Harry tentatively parted his lips and traced his tongue over the other boy's, earning a soft moan. Emboldened by the response, he increased the pressure of his tongue, and was rewarded by Goldstein parting his own lips to grant Harry entrance to his mouth.

This was so different from kissing Ginny. Now he knew what he had been missing. Their tongues slid against each other, stroking and exploring. Both boys were breathless, caught up in the moment. The rough feel of stubble scraping at his skin felt so much better to Harry than Ginny's soft smooth face. He felt no hesitation in pressing harder, using more force with Goldstein. Soon a firm hand was cupped around the back of his head, pulling him further into the kiss. Harry angled his head, aligning their mouths better, giving in to the overwhelming heat flowing through him. Their teeth bumped together, tongues lapped at the insides of cheeks; Harry wound an arm around the other boy, pulling their bodies closer together. Groaning into the Ravenclaw's mouth, he pushed forward more, and suddenly slid off his chair and onto the floor with a thud, pulling Goldstein down on top of him.

Winded by the force of Goldstein's weight, Harry let out a loud "oof!" Both boys started to giggle as they tried to right themselves from the tangle of limbs, until they were interrupted by a loud gasp. Harry looked up to see Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil standing at the end of a row of shelves, mouths agape. "Um, Goldstein, off!" he exclaimed.

Goldstein clambered off him, and offered a hand to help Harry up. Once they were both upright, Harry tried to smooth his robes, but realised that there would be no hiding what had happened. His lips felt swollen and bruised, and Goldstein's were in a similar state. Harry watched and groaned as Lavender and Parvati hurried away, whispering excitedly – the news would be around the school before he could say _venomous tentacula_.

Clearing his throat, Harry looked at Goldstein pleadingly. "Er, can we finish the assignment later? I'd better go find Ron and Hermione. Damage control..."

Goldstein nodded understandingly. "Sorry, didn't mean to get carried away. I've wanted to do that for ages."

Harry flushed, gathering his bag. "Um, ok. See you later." He rushed out of the library.

**~TBC~**


	4. Chapter 4

Harry hid in an alcove near the Potions classroom. His lungs were burning from racing down so many flights of stairs. He had kissed Anthony Goldstein. He had kissed _a boy_! He had kissed a boy _and liked it_! He slumped to the floor and put his head between his knees, trying to slow his breathing. His mind was running a mile a minute, replaying the kiss over and over. He couldn't help but recall his kisses with Cho and Ginny. Kissing girls had felt awkward; with Cho it had been... wet, and with Ginny, he felt as if he had to hold back, that she was too delicate to kiss with any force. Kissing Goldstein was another matter entirely; he had felt no need to be gentle, the force of their kiss almost bruising, the graze of stubble against his lips and jaw had inflamed him, arousing him more than any kiss with Ginny had.

He lifted his fingers to his lips, they were still hot and swollen. How much time did he have before Potions? Would anyone be able to tell? Then he remembered the startled gasps of Lavender and Parvati. He groaned. The gossip queens of Hogwarts would have spread the news within moments, he was sure.

"Hiding, Potter?" Draco drawled, standing over him. "I hear you've been busy."

"Oh fuck," Harry cursed. "You heard already?"

"You expected anything less with Patil and Brown being witness?" Draco snorted. "Come on, you'll be late for Potions, and I don't think Slughorn's in a good mood today."

Harry groaned again, pushing himself off the floor, accepting the helping hand Draco offered. It was time to face the music.

For once, Harry didn't care what people thought, Draco was his friend, and right now he needed a friend. They walked into the Potions classroom together, the last to arrive. Harry flushed as stares and whispers followed him as he made his way to his workspace next to Ron.

Slughorn seemed preoccupied, writing a list of instructions on the board and retreating to his office.

Harry opened his bag and pulled out his Potions book, cursing when he realised he had left his quill and parchment in the library. "Ron, do you have a spare quill and some parchment?" When he received no response, he nudged his friend. "Ron, can I borrow a quill and some parchment?"

"Why don't you borrow some off your _boyfriend_?" Ron hissed.

Taken aback, Harry thought maybe Ron was trying to make a joke. "Um, Ron, Goldstein isn't in this class..." he laughed uneasily.

"Why don't you try Malfoy then? You seem pretty chummy with him lately." This time there was no mistaking the venom in his voice.

Harry nudged his friend, a little harder this time. "What's your problem, Ron?" he asked, hurt and angry that Ron seemed to be turning on him again.

Ron's face had turned almost as red as his hair. "Get your hand off me," he growled, stepping away from Harry.

"Ron!" Hermione's voice was outraged. "Harry, maybe I should work with Ron today." She grabbed her things and made her way to their workstation. "Neville, do you mind working with Harry?"

"Oh yeah, Neville would _love_ that!" Ron laughed bitterly.

Neville threw Ron a withering look. "Give it up, Ron," he said with a hint of warning.

Harry grabbed his bag and moved to swap with Hermione, accidentally bumping Ron on his way through.

The loud "Oi!" was the only warning Harry received before he felt Ron's fist connect with his jaw. He staggered back, bumping into someone, feeling a pair of hands reach out and steady him.

"Weasley! What the hell are you doing? If I was still a prefect, that would be twenty points!" Draco glowered at Ron.

"Just as well you aren't and I am, then, isn't it, ferret-face!" Ron shot back.

"Well, _I'm_ a prefect, Ron, and I agree with Malfoy. Even if it is my own house, that'll be twenty points." Hermione stood with her hands on her hips, glaring disapprovingly. "Harry, do you need to have that jaw seen to?" her voice softened.

Harry rubbed his jaw tentatively. "I think it'll be alright, 'Mione." He glared at Ron. "I can't believe you just hit me!"

Ron huffed. "And I can't believe you dumped Ginny for a _boy_!" he spat.

"Ron! Shut up!" Hermione hissed, glancing at Slughorn's office door. "If Professor Slughorn comes out here you'll be in even more trouble!"

Ron stepped back to his workstation, effectively ignoring Harry and Hermione. Draco turned Harry's face toward him to check for damage. "Harry, Granger is right, you should get Pomfrey to see to this." Harry sighed in defeat, feeling his jaw throb. His cheek felt tight and swollen, and he was sure a deep bruise was beginning to form, though Draco's fingers were sending an odd tingling through his face.

Hermione gathered her bag, collecting Harry's as well. "Neville, can you tell the Professor Harry's not well and I've taken him to the hospital wing?"

"Sure," Neville agreed.

"Come on Harry, let's get your face fixed up," Hermione lead the way out of the classroom.

As he reached the door, Harry looked back to Draco and mouthed "Boathouse, later?" Draco gave an almost imperceptible nod, moving back to his cauldron as the door closed.

Harry winced as he let his head thud back on the boathouse wall. "I just wish people would get over it," he whined.

Draco looked at him without sympathy. "You snogged Goldstein in public. The school, especially your fangirls, are shocked. This will take time to die down. At least they're not pestering you for information about the war now," he said dryly, taking a drag from the ever present cigarette.

"Give me one of those," Harry reached for the packet, and stumbled when Draco pulled it out of his reach.

"No, you've got enough on your plate, you don't need your adoring groupies berating you for smoking too."

"Argh, why can't things just be simple for once?" Harry let his head fall back against the wall with another loud thud.

"And stop doing that, do you want brain damage?"

"Maybe... maybe Ron would speak to me again if I was injured," Harry pouted. "I didn't realise there was such a taboo about homosexuality here."

Draco snorted. "There isn't. He's probably just pissed that you're getting attention again."

Harry looked up at Draco, trying to decide if he could make another swipe at the smokes. "I thought he was _over_ that."

Draco smirked as he tucked the packet back into his robes. "He probably thinks you were leading his sister on, too. Or maybe he wishes you snogged _him_ instead!" He chuckled at the look of outrage on Harry's face.

"Ron..." Harry sputtered. "Me snog Ron? Not likely! He's like my brother!" He dropped his face into his hands. "He _was_ like my brother... I don't know what to do..."

"Do? You do nothing. Well, just keep on. Make out that everything is normal," Draco advised. "Being gay isn't unusual in the wizarding world. It's just that you're so high profile."

Harry looked up at Draco with hope. "So if I pretend there's nothing out of the norm, they'll leave me alone?"

Draco snorted again. "Not likely. I expect the _Prophet_ will have a headline on you soon. But if you act as if it's normal, they'll eventually back off on the speculation about your love life... at least back to how it was before."

"I guess that's the best I can hope for," Harry sighed. "Well, at least it's been interesting to have something _else_ to stress about," he said humourlessly.

**~TBC~**


	5. Chapter 5

What Draco had predicted had come to pass. By the end of the day, Harry had been on the receiving end of everything from slaps on the back congratulating him, to vicious slurs and stinging hexes, one of which he was sure had come from Ginny. The _Daily Prophet_ headline the following morning screamed "BOY WHO LIVED – GAY?". Harry could only be grateful there were no photos. Soon after the delivery of the _Prophet_ , the howlers started to arrive, and Harry had to beat a hasty retreat from the Great Hall with the assistance of Professor McGonagall.

His first class of the day was Transfiguration, but he was unable to concentrate when Ron alternated between completely ignoring him, and throwing hateful glances his way. After the tenth derogatory remark delivered under his breath, Harry packed his books into his bag and fled the class without a word to McGonagall.

Too scared to risk being seen in the library again, even alone, he retreated to the only safe place he knew, the boathouse. The freezing February rain soaked through his robe before he was even halfway, and by the time he made it inside he looked more akin to a drowned rat, which suited his mood perfectly. Shoving his fingers into his hair he tightened his fists and _pulled_ , making his scalp sting. The churning in his gut didn't ease, so he dug his nails into his head hard, praying the pain would help him calm down, but this was also to no avail. A sob worked its way up his throat, choking him. Hot tears pricked at his eyes and his face started to burn, despite the frigid weather.

The urge to give in to his old habit resurfaced with a vengeance. He clenched and unclenched his fists as he started muttering to himself, "not again, I won't do it again, I _won't_..." He paced back and forth inside the boathouse, trying desperately to restrain the urge to kick something, to hit something, to tear into his own skin. He was moments away from punching a wall when he heard a footstep. Whipping around, Harry gaped at Draco, who leaned just inside the doorway, the customary cigarette between his lips.

"Hit something if you need to – it's not healthy to suppress that rage, you should know that by now." He took a deep pull, releasing the smoke from his lungs through pursed lips and making it curl seductively from his mouth.

Harry's mouth went dry, the rage within him fled and was swiftly replaced with something else almost as disturbing. He aimed a swift kick at the wall to disrupt the wayward thoughts, only succeeding in making himself fall over.

Draco snickered. "What's the headline tomorrow, _Boy who fell down_?"

"Shut it, you," Harry growled as he hauled himself off the floor and stomped over to Draco. "Give me that," he grabbed the cigarette from Draco's mouth, took a deep pull and promptly had a coughing fit, scattering ash all over Draco's robes. Eyes stinging and throat burning, he ignored Draco's loud complaints and started brushing off the ash. Harry quickly discovered this was a bad idea, as he could suddenly feel strong, lean muscles shifting under the fine fabric. He could smell a delicious scent of leather and citrus mingled with tobacco and it set his senses ablaze. Verdant green eyes were drawn to silver grey, Harry's gaze flicking down to soft, pale pink lips, making him lick his own.

"Oh no you don't, Potter." Harry jerked his gaze up to Draco's piercing eyes, shocked at the use of his last name. Stepping away just a little, Draco tried to reassure. "I realise you're having a bit of an identity crisis here, but I will thank you to not go down that path."

Harry flushed as he stepped away, trying his best not to show the disappointment he felt.

"For Merlin's sake, Harry, don't look like I just kicked your puppy. I'm just not... I don't swing your way, alright? I have no problem with homosexuality, but I'm straight." He lit another cigarette and looked off into the distance pensively. "I expect things will get worse before they get better, Harry. I'll support you, you know that. Just don't confuse what we have for more than it actually is."

Cursing himself silently, Harry worked to get his thoughts in order. He paced the length of the boathouse several times, while Draco chain smoked through several cigarettes in silence.

"Sorry," he said eventually. "Er... I guess you're right, it's all just a bit confusing... all so new, caught up in the moment, you know?" He prayed Draco would believe that's all it was, he couldn't afford to lose the only friend who really understood. "Um, sorry, you know, for the robes, the cigarette...", _oh Merlin_ , he snapped his mouth shut to stem the flow of words.

Draco lazily waved his wand, vanishing the ash on his fine wool robes. Pulling something silver out of his robes, he handed the item to Harry. "Here, this might help."

Harry took the flask gratefully, removed the lid and swallowed a large gulp of the liquid inside, coughing violently at the burn of the firewhiskey. "Thanks," he said once he caught his breath, passing the flask back.

"No, you keep it. I expect you'll probably need a bit of liquid courage to get through the rest of today. Just don't let McGonagall catch you with it."

"Oh Merlin, I'm in so much trouble," Harry groaned as he took another swig.

"I think you'll find she'll be alright, as long as you don't miss any more classes. She told me to come and find you, make sure you were alright."

"How did she... oh, of course, Christmas."

"She doesn't miss a thing, nearly as omniscient as Dumbledore, that woman," Draco agreed. He cast a breath freshening charm to get rid of the tobacco smell, and beckoned his friend. "Come on, if we hurry, we'll make it to Herbology and only be a few minutes late."

Harry stepped through the door into the dorm silently. He had hoped Ron would be off with Hermione somewhere, but luck continued to elude him today. "Hiya, Harry," Seamus called out, making him cringe when Ron looked up sharply.

"Brilliant," the red-head muttered. "Boy wonder is here." He slammed down the book he was reading and stormed out of the room, not heeding Harry's cry of "Ron, wait!" as he left.

Harry plopped down in his bed, defeated. Unwilling to meeting the pitying gazes of Dean or Seamus, he lay down, scrunching his eyes closed behind his glasses. A rustle of robes and someone's weight depressing the mattress told him he wasn't going to be left alone.

"Harry."

Harry groaned as he heard Neville's unmistakable voice. "Not now, Neville."

"No, Harry, you need to listen," Neville spoke, an underlying tone of authority that Harry was only now becoming used to.

"Please, Neville." Harry refused to open his eyes and turned on his side, facing away from his friend. "I just can't deal with this at the moment."

Neville sighed. "Okay, I'll leave you be, but Harry, not everyone thinks the same way you know. Some of us understand more than you think." The mattress shifted again as he stood. Harry wasn't sure if he imagined the gentle touch to his shoulder. "I'm here if you want to talk. You don't have to do this on your own." With that, he quietly left the room and closed the door.

Several minutes later, Harry sat up and looked around, startled to find himself completely alone. Even while seeking solitude, he couldn't help but feel disappointed. The conflicting thoughts and feelings were tearing him up inside. It was hard to believe that less than twelve months ago, he, Ron and Hermione were out hunting Horcruxes, their sole aim to destroy Voldemort. The goal seemed simplistic in hindsight; everyone thought once Voldemort was dead, everything would be normal, but none of them had really known what _normal_ meant. Harry's life up to that point could never have been considered normal, why should it start now?

He reflected on the bizarre turn of events so far this year. No one would have expected this strange friendship he now had with Draco. Hermione was coming to terms with it after learning of the time they spent together over the Christmas break helping with the war orphans' program. Ron had scoffed, insinuating Draco was only sucking up to Harry to try and redeem some kind of status as the _Saviour's_ friend. Seamus and Dean were wary at first, but cautiously accepted Harry's reassurances that Draco could be trusted, and Neville had stood back and just quietly observed. The developments of the last two days had turned everything upside down. Hermione was now running interference between Harry, Ron and Ginny, Seamus and Dean didn't seem to know what to say to him, and Neville... well, Harry couldn't work out what was going on with him, but was too absorbed in his own torment to try. The only person he could rely on with any certainty was Draco, but now that Harry's feelings had been acknowledged in some form, Harry didn't even know if he could depend on that friendship enduring.

Harry pressed his fingers hard into his eyes and groaned. He almost wished he could search the Forbidden Forest for the Resurrection Stone. Counsel from Lupin, Sirius or even his parents would be welcome. He just felt so alone.

**~TBC~**


	6. Chapter 6

Despite Harry's torment, life went on. Easter swiftly approached, with a barrage of assignments and study set by the teachers in preparation for their final exams. Harry and Draco continued with their infrequent meetings in the boathouse, conversations limited to the safe realm of study, career plans and the war orphans' program over Easter.

Draco made no reference to Harry's crush, and Harry did his best to hide his feelings, despite becoming more attracted to him with every passing day. No longer was it just Draco's physique and looks that drew him in, it was the way he continued to discretely mentor the younger students in his house. It was the way he spoke up against the vitriol and prejudicial views still held by some of his peers, and the way he staunchly supported Harry whenever even remotely derogatory remarks were made behind his back or to his face. The occasional pats on the back or squeezes of the shoulder were becoming Harry's lifeblood.

There were no more incidents with Goldstein, much to the Ravenclaw's disappointment, but he was understanding when Harry explained that he was still trying to work things out, and could do without the speculation of fellow students and the wizarding world at large. Harry was still uncomfortable though, when Goldstein sent several wistful glances his way as they finalised their Charms assignment to hand in before Easter.

For the most part, Seamus and Dean were supportive, though Harry often witnessed a hurried end to a whispered conversation when he entered the dorm. Neville said no more about his offer of a listening ear, but did his best to just _be_ there for Harry. Harry didn't quite know what to do with this, uncomfortable with the idea of opening up to anyone else, too caught up with his inner turmoil to consider seeking help. He was unaware of the shy, pained glances Neville cast his way when Harry was discretely watching Draco.

The continued rift between Ron and Harry, and spiteful behaviour from Ginny, made Harry's decision to remain at Hogwarts for the Easter break easier. Hermione worried that he was isolating himself from his friends again. "I'm not exactly being given much choice, 'Mione," Harry pointedly reminded her. A promise of at least two owls during the holiday mollified Hermione, but only a little.

Harry said saying goodbye to Hermione and headed to the Gryffindor tower, looking forward to the solitude of the eight year boys' dorm. Seeing Neville sitting on his bed, his nose buried in his Herbology textbook, made Harry start with surprise as a vague sting of irritation passed through him. "Er... hi Neville?" his greeting sounded more like a question. "Not going to see your Gran for Easter?"

Neville looked up and scrutinised Harry, not missing the annoyance he was trying to hide. "No, I decided it was more important to stay and do some study. I need to get decent NEWTs scores if I'm going to get an apprenticeship."

"Oh." Harry tried to school his face into an expressionless mask, wondering how Draco managed it so easily. "Er, I... um... I need to go to the library... to plan... the thing... orphans' activity tonight," he stuttered, turning to leave.

A hand on his shoulder arrested his flight. _Damn_ , he thought, _when did Neville learn to move so fast?_ "Harry, I wanted to talk to you," the taller boy pleaded. "I need you to listen, I... I think I can help..." Despite trying to keep his voice steady, a slight tremor was audible at the end. Neville realised he still had his hand on Harry's shoulder and he snatched it back, a slight flush staining his cheeks.

"Oh. Um... ok" Harry could not get his mouth and his brain to connect, and settled on nodding. He walked to his bed and sat down, staring at his hands as he fidgeted with his wand.

Plodding down the steps to the boathouse, Harry's mind was awash with a myriad of thoughts and feelings. Neville's disclosure left him in a quandary. Suddenly he had a friend who was in a unique position to understand, and yet Harry felt more burdened than before. What could he say to Neville after such a confession? Reaching his refuge, Harry sat in his usual spot and pulled out the flask that he had never returned to Draco. He took a swig of the strong liquid, and closed his eyes.

Neville's words continued to ring in his ears. "Harry, I know how you feel. I've been in love with you since fifth year." What was he supposed to _do_ with that? The disappointment in the taller boy's eyes when Harry had bumbled through a tactless response had cut him to the core, and yet Neville had relieved him of any obligation and continued, offering him words of wisdom and comfort on how to live with unrequited feelings. He was astounded at how Neville had pushed through his own process of discovery alone, not only coming to terms with his sexuality, but also dealing with an attraction to someone he thought was straight, and stepping up as a member of the DA to eventually lead others during the war.

Harry groaned as he realised that he had been so caught up in his own self-recriminations, he had been completely oblivious to the fact that others were struggling with their own issues as well. He suddenly felt childish and unimportant. The irony of the situation was not lost on him – Neville was in love with him, and he was in love with Draco, something he could finally acknowledge.

A soft knock on the wall alerted him to another's presence. "Mind if I join you?" Draco asked, as Harry looked up. Harry nodded stiffly, the awkwardness between them still lingered in the background. "Can we talk?"

The question made Harry look up sharply. Draco rarely spoke of anything personal, not since Christmas; instead, he was usually the one to offer advice to Harry. "Um, sure, I suppose," Harry said uncertainly, his mind already overflowing with the events of the afternoon.

Draco slid down the wall to sit near Harry and pulled out the customary packet of smokes, lighting one with his wand. He took a deep pull from the cigarette and released the smoke slowly from his lungs. "I got a letter from Mother today."

Harry waited, not knowing where this was going.

"She's in negotiations with the Greengrass family."

Harry continued to look blankly at Draco.

"We're to be betrothed. Mother wants the wedding next year."

"Oh," Harry said dispassionately, a large knot forming in his gut. He turned his gaze to the floor.

"It's a good match," Draco continued quietly. "The Greengrasses are purebloods, untainted by the war. They are willing to overlook our part, it will help to restore the Malfoy name. The dowry Mother offered helps."

Not knowing what to say, Harry remained silent.

"She's a nice girl. I could grow to love her, I think."

Harry nodded, turning his face away from his friend, unable to conceal the pain in his eyes. He now understood what he had seen in Neville's face earlier. "Why talk to me about this, Draco?" His voice remained steady, despite the conflict raging inside.

"I don't know, we're friends, aren't we?" Harry could feel Draco's eyes on him and couldn't help but look back, the uncertainty in Draco's eyes making his stomach flip.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "We're friends."

Draco nodded and took another drag of his cigarette. "I just feel like Mother is rushing things, you know? I understand that we need to improve the family's standing in society, but surely the betrothal contract will be enough for now?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't really get your pureblood traditions and contracts. Why do you have to arrange something? Ccan't you find someone the normal way?"

"Normal? You mean the muggle way? Marry for love and all that tripe?" Draco almost sneered, but managed to hold back the contempt in his voice.

A surge of bitterness flooded Harry's mouth. "At least you have a choice! It's not like I get a choice about marriage either, is it? You say the wizarding world doesn't have any prejudice towards gays, but we're still not allowed to get married!"

Draco looked at Harry, shocked at the sudden outburst. "You've only just figured out for yourself that you're gay, and now you're talking about getting married? Putting the carriage before the Thestral a bit aren't you?"

Suddenly finding an outlet, Harry's rage burst forth. "Don't, Malfoy. Just don't!" He pushed to his feet, making to storm out of the boathouse, impeded when Draco grabbed his robes. A window near them cracked loudly. "What the fuck do you want from me, Malfoy? Why are you telling me this?" he asked again, his tone a blend of accusation and distress.

Even more taken aback, Draco released Harry's robes, slumping back against the wall. "I've been listening to you for weeks. I thought maybe as a _friend_ you might listen to me for once, _Potter!_ What's crawled up your arse today?" he asked bitterly, letting his head tilt back and staring at the beams in the roof.

Harry felt like he was watching a train wreck, but could do nothing to stop it. "You say we're friends, then you tell me you're going to get married?" The question sounded ridiculous even to his own ears.

"Well, yes. What did you think, you and I were going to fly off on a broom into the sunset together?" Draco did sneer this time, but the expression faded as he read the truth in his friend's eyes. "Oh Merlin, I thought we sorted that out?" Harry flinched, feeling as if his very soul was on display for the world to see. He fled the boathouse. Draco scrambled after him. "Harry, wait!"

The cold air burned in Harry's lungs as Harry strode up the hillside as fast as possible. Hot tears flooded his eyes, making it hard to see. He stumbled, feeling strong arms grab him to prevent him from falling. Trying to wrench himself free in a blind panic, Harry's limbs became tangled with Draco's, and both boys tumbled to the ground. In their attempts to disengage from each other, their torsos became pressed more firmly together. Harry, angry and upset, gave in to the desire, ceasing his attempts to flee and pressing his lips to Draco's.

Draco froze in shock, inadvertently allowing Harry to increase the pressure of the kiss. Heat flooded them both – Harry was awash with sensation as he was finally able to express his attraction to Draco, while Draco's flush was fuelled by indignation and anger that his friend was taking advantage. When he was able to gather his wits, Draco managed to get his hands pressed flush to Harry's chest, then pushed hard. Caught in the moment, Harry wound his arms around Draco, holding tight and trying to bring their bodies closer, increasing the pressure of his mouth. Horrified at the sensation of Harry's tongue trying to force between his lips, Draco gasped. He squirmed and pushed harder to try and get away. Harry paid no heed, his desperation overruling common sense. Seeing no other way to extricate himself, Draco opened his mouth to Harry's tongue, then bit down, hard enough to hurt, but hopefully not to draw blood.

"Fuck!" Harry swore, tasting copper in his mouth.

Draco used the brief reprieve and managed to separate himself from Harry. He scrambled some distance away. "What the hell are you doing?" he cried. "Why did you do that? Why did you have to ruin it?"

Humiliation washed over Harry like ice cold water, and he slumped to the ground. A lump formed in his throat, making it impossible to speak.

"I can't... I don't know..." Draco's voice was laced with betrayal and hurt.

Harry swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he choked out, then, unable to face his friend any longer, he fled.

**~TBC~**


	7. Chapter 7

Grateful for the quiet of the holidays, Harry sequestered himself in his dorm. He drew the curtains around his bed and set locking and silencing charms for good measure. He was supposed to be watching another indoor football game in the Great Hall, but could not bring himself to face another soul. He felt as if he was at war with himself, swinging from one emotional extreme to another. When he remembered the feel of Draco's lips on his, even though they had been frozen and unyielding, heat flooded his body and his arousal spiked. Recalling the distress in his friend's voice brought on waves of humiliation and regret that threatened to overcome him. When the tears pricked his eyes, he would bite his lip til it bled, and when that was no longer enough and the sobs broke through, he dragged his ragged, bitten nails along the inside of his left forearm. Spots of blood started to seep onto the sheets of his bed, but he couldn't bring himself to care, only praying the sting and burn of the scratches would help numb the turmoil in his mind.

Harry didn't know how long he lay back and stared at the canopy over his bed. Maybe he should have gone to the Burrow after all. He removed the charms on his curtains with a sigh and did his best to straighten his robes. He siphoned off the blood stains on his sheets and sleeve and ran his fingers carelessly through his hair. Night had fallen, the windows black against the warm light in the room. There was a soft knock on the door, heralding the arrival of Neville. "Harry? Malfoy wants to talk to you."

Harry groaned softly, wishing he could put off this confrontation, but kew it was best to deal with his friend and the consequences of his actions sooner rather than later. He nodded to Neville and glanced around to ensure there were no telltale signs of his earlier activity. While Draco was aware of his shameful habit, he didn't want this conversation to be about that.

Draco strode confidently into the room, taking in the furnishings with a cursory glance. He dismissed Neville imperiously. "Potter, we need to talk." Staring at a fixed point past Draco, Harry gestured to Ron's bed, indicating Draco should sit. Draco sat stiffly, holding himself aloof. "I was going to tell you this afternoon that Mother was coming to visit today, with Lady Greengrass." Harry nodded, but remained silent. "Mother arrived early, as we were coming up from the boathouse," Draco paused, as if waiting for a response.

Harry looked up, uncomprehending. "So?"

"She was at the top of the hill, Potter. She saw everything!"

"Oh." Harry didn't know what else to say.

"'Oh'? All you have to say is 'oh'?" Draco spat out. "Lady Greengrass could have been with her! Mother was livid, she could barely restrain herself until we were in private!"

Harry grimaced, the familiar feelings of guilt and regret rising. "I'm sorry," he whispered, at a loss, twisting his fingers in his lap.

"Potter, I'm the only one left to try and redeem the Malfoy name! Mother put a lot of work into getting Lord Greengrass to consider the contract. The name Malfoy doesn't hold a lot of weight in pureblood circles. This opportunity isn't one I that can afford to jeopardise." Draco rose and began to pace. "The announcement will be in the _Prophet_ on Saturday. I will be under intense scrutiny from other purebloods."

Harry nodded. He could hear and understand the words Draco was speaking, but he felt strangely detached. It was odd to be sitting and listening to Draco and not seeing the customary cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Draco's words floated through his mind, but their meaning did not really register.

"Potter!" Draco snapped, trying to get his attention. Harry's head snapped up. "People were already questioning the lack of enmity between us. Since the incident with Goldstein, your movements are watched even more than before. I cannot afford to be seen consorting with you, especially once the announcement is released."

Draco's words finally sank into Harry's mind. "What? Are you... are you saying..." the prospect of losing this friend was too painful to verbalise.

"Yes, Potter. I'm saying this accord we have, this _friendship_ , must cease. The slightest hint of any scandal between us would have the Malfoys ostracised from every pureblood circle. I cannot let that happen. I _will not_ let that happen."

His words fell like blows on Harry's ears. How could one small action, one kiss, bring his world crashing down around him? He sat there, trying desperately to hold himself together, but wondering how anything would ever be the same.

"I have to go. Mother is waiting to take me into Hogsmeade," his voice softened slightly. "I'm sorry, Harry."

The soft snick of the door indicated Draco's departure. Harry sat on the bed, staring at the floor, feeling numb. The only person who truly understood him was gone. Their odd friendship was over. His face crumpled. Drawing in a ragged breath, the air caught in his throat, and a sob tore free. For months he had felt as if he was in some form of stasis, able to function, but not really living. Now the dam broke. He could not stop the keening cries as he heaved in great gulps of air. Tearing at his skin made no impact, other than to break open the already ravaged skin. He sank to the floor and curled up in a ball, alternating between shuddering breaths and gut-wrenching howls of pain. Every memory, every guilty feeling, the faces of those lost all flooded his mind. Recrimination and disgust overwhelmed him, and he yanked at his hair, raked his fingers over his face, his cheeks breaking out in red welts.

Strong arms lifted him from the floor and cradled him against a broad chest. Fingers restrained his wrists as Harry sought to inflict more damage on himself. Whispered words of comfort failed to break through the loud sobs that he could not suppress. He struggled against the restraint, wanting to be freed, wanting to be left alone with his grief. White spots began to swim across his field of vision, his breathing rapid and uneven. He was vaguely aware of soft voices, a cool vial being pressed to his lips. When the darkness descended, he welcomed it.

**~TBC~**


	8. Chapter 8

Quiet whispers pierced his consciousness. Harry tried to open his eyes, but it felt as if his eyelids were glued shut. He groaned softly as he tried to bring his hands up to rub his eyes, but was only able to move them a few inches off the bed. "What the fuck?"

He heard a stifled gasp nearby and felt someone's fingers tighten on his own. "Quick," a soft voice spoke. "Call Madam Pomfrey." Feet shuffled away. "Harry, can you hear me?" A gentle hand stroked over his forehead.

Harry groaned again as he tried to unstick his eyelids and finally managed to open them. "Yes," he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Here," a straw was pressed to his lips. "Just a sip, Madam Pomfrey will want to check you over." He gratefully pulled on the straw, the cool liquid soothing to his parched, burning throat. Too soon, the water was taken away. His glasses were gently placed on his face. He did his best to sweep his eyes around the room and took in the stark walls of the hospital wing. Trying to sit up, he found again that he was magically restrained, unable to move more than a few inches. "Shhh... stay still, Harry, Madam Pomfrey will be here soon."

He finally recognised Hermione's voice and he flicked his gaze in her direction, then quickly looked away as he took in her haggard face. Her hair was pulled back in a tight braid, exposing dark shadows under her bloodshot eyes. There was a tremor in her movements as she stroked his hair off his face. He closed his eyes and swallowed convulsively, the overwhelming guilt surfaced again as he realised the strain he had caused her.

A rustle of robes preceded Madam Pomfrey's no-nonsense "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, out." Harry's quick glance at Ron revealed he was faring no better than Hermione. She brushed a soft kiss on Harry's cheek, then stood and left, hand in hand with Ron. Madam Pomfrey drew the partitions around Harry's bed. "Mr. Potter, I need to ask you some questions, run a few diagnostic spells, then you will rest awhile." He cringed, though he was grateful for her matter-of-fact tone. "How are you feeling, are you in any pain?"

He took stock of his body as much as he could in his restraints and responded. "Um, my head hurts a bit, and my throat is really sore."

"The headache will ease over the next few hours, a side effect of the potion I had to administer," she did not elaborate further. "Your vocal chords are inflamed, they should heal with rest and fluids. Try not to speak unnecessarily. How about your arms and your face?"

He frowned, then winced as pain tugged at the skin of his cheeks. Again he tried to shift his arms in the bed, feeling the restraints again, but this time he was also aware of the same painful tightness in the skin of his arms. "My arms and my face hurt, why is that?"

This time there was a flicker of distress in the witch's voice. "You injured yourself during your... outburst. You seem to have also lost control of your magic somewhat, and it has manifested in your wounds. We were unable to heal the wounds using magical means, so they will have to heal naturally." Not pausing to allow any questions, she continued. "Do you know what day it is?"

Distracted by the change in topic, Harry scrambled in his mind to keep up. "Um, is it Friday? The second?"

Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. "Thank you, Mr Potter. I will run those diagnostic spells now." She proceeded to run her wand over his body, muttering spells quietly.

"Madam Pomfrey, could you tell me what happened?" he whispered, his throat burning again from the few words he had already spoken.

She paused her actions and her voice softened. "Rest your voice now, Mr. Potter. I will give you some potions to try and help with the inflammation, but it would be best if you waited to speak with the Mind Healer when they arrive." She continued with the spells.

"Mind Healer? I don't need..."

"Mr. Potter, a Mind Healer will be here this evening to speak with you. It is imperative that you do not aggravate your vocal chords further." Finishing with the diagnostic spells, she summoned two vials and pressed them one at a time to Harry's lips until he swallowed. Words of protest were on the tip of his tongue, but everything went black before he had the chance to speak.

A hand shaking his shoulder drew him from his slumber. "Harry, the Mind-Healer will be here soon. I thought you might like to freshen up?"

Harry went to rub his eyes, groaning with frustration when he found himself still restrained. "'Mione, how am I supposed to freshen up when I can't even move?".

"I'll ask Madam Pomfrey to remove the restraints." She strode away.

A few minutes later Madam Pomfrey was releasing his bonds with her wand. "Now, Mr. Potter, I cannot leave you unattended. You will need to be supervised while you are unrestrained. Mr. Weasley has agreed to assist you in the bathroom."

Harry blushed bright red and stuttered. "Can't I have even a moment to myself?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. Your magic is unstable, and your emotions exceedingly chaotic. We cannot risk your magic doing more damage to you until you get it and your emotional responses under control. Miss Granger has brought you some pyjamas and slippers." She gestured the way to the bathroom, nodding to Ron. "Mind you don't get your bandages wet, Mr. Potter. An _Impervius_ should suffice, Mr. Weasley."

Ron nodded. "S'alright, Harry, I don't mind," he said gruffly, following as Harry gingerly made his way to the bathroom. Harry walked into a toilet cubicle and turned to close the door, only to have Ron hold the door open. "Sorry, Harry, Pomfrey's orders. I won't look," he said sheepishly and pointedly stared at a spot on the far wall. Harry didn't know what to make of this change in attitude. Ron had not spoken a friendly word to Harry in weeks.

Harry finished in the toilet, stepped out and then looked at his bandages. "Where's my wand?"

"Pomfrey is looking after it until your magic has stabilised. Here," Ron cast an _Impervius_ on Harry's bandages. Harry undressed, feeling awkward having Ron in the room with him. He showered, appreciating the warm water on his exposed skin. He kept his shower short, dried off and pulled on the clean pyjamas. "Thanks, Ron," he said quietly, unsure of how long the peace between them would last.

They returned to the ward, and Harry settled back on his bed.

**~TBC~**


	9. Chapter 9

Mind-Healer Felicity Redfern was a no-nonsense woman. Harry guessed she was in her mid forties. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a tight knot which exposed her stern features. Despite her demeanour, she was compassionate, but did not suffer fools, and Harry was behaving like one at that moment.

This was his second session with Healer Redfern. Harry idly picked at the loose threads on his cuff, while he stared stony-faced anywhere but at her. She seemed to know all the right buttons to push, but all he wanted was to be left alone.

"Harry, you know we cannot release you from the hospital wing until you have adequate control over your magic. When Madam Pomfrey gave you your wand yesterday, you broke three windows."

He flushed, but said nothing, still pulling at his sleeve.

"Well, you refuse legilimency, you refuse all potions except dreamless sleep. What will you allow, Harry? I only want to help you regain control over your magic, and find some sense of peace." Redfern sighed and gathered her notes with a wave of her wand. "I will see you in two days, Harry. I would appreciate if you could try those exercises I explained last session." Standing to leave the room she stopped by his chair and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "You will recover, Harry, but you have to want it."

Finally tired of the internal battle, he looked up. The kindness in her eyes was his undoing. "I'll try, Healer."

Pleased with the first real engagement with her patient, she offered a gentle smile. "Please, Harry, call me Felicity. If you really want this, we'll be spending a lot of time together, and I want you to be comfortable with me." She squeezed his shoulder again. "Til Wednesday, Harry."

Harry did not know how long he sat in Madam Pomfrey's office, staring off into the distance as he persistently tugged at the loose threads on his sleeve. The next thing he was consciously aware of was Madam Pomfrey bustling into her office. "Mr. Potter, your session ended forty-five minutes ago. You need to return to your bed as I have need of my office."

He flushed, embarrassed at being an inconvenience. "Sorry, Madam Pomfrey," he muttered quietly as he made his way to the door.

Her voice softened. "Mr. Potter, Miss Granger has brought you some notes from your classes. I will be in to check on you this evening." With that, he was dismissed.

Harry shuffled into the private area of the hospital wing that had been created for him. His posture was bowed and subdued, the prospect of study weighing heavily on his already burdened mind. Hermione sat in an armchair next to his bed, nose buried in a large volume. She looked up at his arrival.

"Harry, how are you?" He shrugged as he sat down on the bed and avoided eye contact. Hermione sighed. "I brought you some notes from Transfiguration, and Goldstein has put together some Charms notes. I've been so busy with Arithmancy that I asked Malfoy for his potions notes, but he nearly hexed me, so I'll try and pull something together for you tomorrow..." She rambled on as she shuffled through a stack of parchment, unaware of the stricken look on Harry's face.

He tried to still the trembling in his hands, feeling his magic stirring under his skin. He curled his fingers into his palms but tried not to dig in the nails, lest he trigger the specialised observation spell Madam Pomfrey had cast on him.

"Harry, are you listening to me?" Hermione huffed, then gasped when a surge of wild magic cracked another window. "Oh... let me get Madam Pomfrey!"

"No, Hermione, wait!" he cried. "Please, don't get Pomfrey, please," Harry pleaded.

Hermione bit her lip in indecision. "Harry, what if you hurt yourself again? I'd really feel better if..."

"Please, Hermione. She'll just give me another magical dampener. I hate how it makes me feel, my head goes all fuzzy and I can't _think_!" He started coughing, those words more than he had spoken in the last three days.

She reached for the jug of water next to his bed and poured a glass, passing it to him. "Here, drink this."

Harry gratefully accepted the glass and took slow sips, having learned that drinking too fast would just aggravate his throat further. "Thanks," he whispered, and handed back the glass, relieved that it had remained intact and the tremors had ceased.

Looking at the pile of study notes on the bed, Hermione picked them up and flicked through them as if trying to work out a complex problem. She suddenly stuffed them into her bag, seeming to come to a conclusion. "Harry, did something I say upset you?" she asked uncertainly. "Was it talking about study, or was it talking about Malfoy?"

He turned his face away, trying not to _feel_ anything at the sound of Draco's name.

"I thought so," she said softly, and reached out to take Harry's hand. He tried to tug it away but she held firmly. "Harry, I've given you space all this year. You've avoided most of us, and I know you're grieving, I just wish you would tell me _why_!"

Harry turned back to Hermione, this time he squeezed her hand instead of trying to pull away. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. There's just so much going on in my head, and you and Ron seemed so happy, and then the thing with Ginny... I just didn't want to be any trouble."

Hermione drew Harry into a hug. "Oh Harry, I wish you had come to me. I know Ron's been a prat, but just because we're together and he's Ginny's brother..." she trailed off. "Well, you can speak to me now if you like?"

Harry squeezed her hand again before he disengaged himself from her. "Thanks, but I'm just not ready yet. There's a lot to work through, Felicity wants me to speak only with her about it for the time being. Healer Redfern," he clarified at Hermione's confused look. "I don't know what she has planned, but I think, just maybe, she can help?"

"Of course. Healer Redfern is better qualified, I'm sure." Harry managed a small smile when she acknowledged she wasn't the know-it-all she wanted to be. "Just know, I'm here for you."

"Thanks, 'Mione. I'll see how I go, ok?" He breathed a sigh of relief at her acceptance. "I think I'd like some rest now, can you maybe leave me the notes from class, and I'll go through them later?"

"Sure," she said, and pulled the parchment back out of her bag. "Here, um, would you prefer me to get potions notes from someone else?"

"Yeah, that'd be great." He removed his glasses and placed them on the table beside his bed with the parchment. "Will you come by tomorrow?"

"Yes. Oh, and Neville wanted to visit. Can I say it's alright?"

"Sure, maybe at dinner?"

Hermione pulled up Harry's blankets and brushed a kiss on her friend's forehead. "I'll tell him. Rest well, Harry, I'll see you tomorrow."

**~TBC~**


	10. Chapter 10

Harry toyed with the food on his plate. He loved chicken and ham pie, but his appetite was sporadic. "No way! How come you get better food just because you're sick?" Neville exclaimed as he appeared around the partition. "Aren't you going to eat that?"

"Not really hungry," Harry muttered, "but Pomfrey will have a fit if I don't eat at least half."

"Well go on then," Neville encouraged, and made himself comfortable in the nearby armchair. "The dorm isn't the same without you, you need to get better so you can come back."

Taking a bite of pie, Harry chewed slowly, without really tasting the food. He swallowed with difficulty. "I think it might be a while before I'm back, Neville. And I'm not really sure Ron would be that keen for my return."

"Ron's alright, I think he's had a bit of a reality check these last few days. Seamus, Dean and I had a few words with him when he got back."

"You didn't have to do that, but thanks, I guess," Harry flushed. "I don't want to make things difficult for anyone, especially you, after, well, you know..." He blushed further, feeling awkward about Neville's confession.

Neville grinned sheepishly. "Don't worry about it, Harry. I didn't tell you to make you feel uncomfortable. I just wanted you to know that I understand. I still like you, but I'm not foolish enough to believe there'd ever be anything between us."

"Yeah, sorry," Harry whispered, uncomfortable despite Neville's statement.

"Besides, I think your type is a bit different... blondes, perhaps?"

Harry shifted in his bed which caused the glass of pumpkin juice on the tray to tip. Neville moved so fast, Harry almost didn't see it, righting the beverage before it could spill. "Sorry, I, um, prefer not to talk about Dra... blondes."

"Oh, well, never mind then." Neville cleared his throat. "Madam Pomfrey told me you're seeing a Mind Healer?"

Harry's head snapped up. "She shouldn't be telling people about my treatment, it's private!"

Neville pulled on his robes, uncomfortable. "Sorry, Harry, it's just, I was the one that found you. I think she just wanted to reassure me... I didn't want to pry."

"Oh, I didn't know," Harry murmured sheepishly. "I guess I don't really know what happened that night. Pomfrey won't tell me anything, and I think Healer Redfern wants me to try and remember on my own, though maybe I'd prefer to just forget."

Neville's mouth turned up on one side and he offered Harry a wry grin. "I suppose that's fair. I'm sure there are times all of us would like to forget, one way or another."

Harry looked at his plate. "I'd better try and eat some more of this, unless you want to help?"

"As much as I'm jealous of your 'special treatment', Harry, you really should eat as much as you can. You'll get better faster if you're eating properly." Harry took another bite, then another. "I'll put a good word in with Pomfrey if you'd like? She's got a soft spot for me since I 'rescued' you."

"Thanks, Neville. You're a good friend."

"So will you be doing your NEWTs, Harry?"

Taken aback at the question, Harry choked. "Why wouldn't I do my NEWTs?" he sputtered out, and winced as his vocal chords protested.

"I dunno," Neville shrugged. "I just thought maybe with everything that's happened, you might want to concentrate on getting better, rather than stressing about exams? I mean, you could take them at the Ministry after the summer holidays. That's what most people do if they fail anything and want to try again."

"Wow, I never really thought about it. I just thought you did your NEWTs at school and that was it. If you failed you had to re-do the year."

"Nah, they do correspondence courses after the results are released. Something to think about I suppose. I'm sure your Mind Healer will probably mention it soon."

Harry snorted. "Hermione will pitch a fit if I do that. But yeah, I'll think about it."

"Don't worry about Hermione, Harry. She's been beside herself with worry, she'll understand, even if it takes a few days!" Neville laughed.

"Thanks Neville, you're probably right." He sighed, "I just wish I hadn't caused everyone so much worry. It was supposed to be easy, you know? After the war?"

Neville nodded. "I don't think any of us knew what to expect after the war, Harry. Hermione said there's this muggle condition called... now let me get this right. Post Stress... no wait. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Makes sense I suppose."

Harry nodded. "Healer Redfern mentioned something like that. I never really thought about it. And then the other stuff that happened, before Easter..." he sighed. "I suppose I'd better tell her about that stuff too, though after the _Prophet_ articles, she'd know anyway."

"I don't know much about Mind Healers, Harry, but I think being honest about everything is probably a good idea."

"Wise words, Mr. Longbottom," Madam Pomfrey said as she popped her head around the partition. "Visiting hours will be over shortly. Mr. Potter, I will be back to check on you shortly."

Neville stood. "That's my cue then. Sleep well. Do you mind if I visit again?"

"Sure, Neville. Thanks, I'm sorry about..."

"Don't think on it, Harry. It's fine, really," Neville reassured.

"Ok, thanks, Neville. See you tomorrow."

"Night, Harry." Neville left the hospital wing, leaving Harry alone.

He sat back against his pillows and pondered the strange conversation. Postponing his NEWTs wasn't something he had ever considered, he would have to be sure to discuss it with Felicity on Wednesday. Madam Pomfrey strode in, potion vial in hand. "Mr. Potter, I will only administer a half dose of Dreamless Sleep tonight. It is not wise to rely on it long-term. Healer Redfern recommended you be weaned off over the next week." Harry grimaced, the prospect of trying to sleep without the potion not a welcome one. "Come now, Mr. Potter. From your conversation with Mr. Longbottom, it sounds like you're making some difficult but good decisions. This is but one of them."

Harry nodded and swallowed the potion once Madam Pomfrey had completed her checks of his wounds, relieved to see they were healing well. "Good night, Madam Pomfrey," he said quietly, knowing he would not be conscious much longer.

"Good night, Mr. Potter. Sleep well."

**~TBC~**


	11. Chapter 11

"What did you feel when Draco told you about the betrothal?" Felicity asked bluntly. Once Harry had made the decision to work with her, she had visited daily for the past ten days, wanting to make the most of his cooperation.

Harry tensed. He did not want to discuss the topic, though he knew it was imperative. "I suppose I knew all along he was straight. But I didn't really want to believe it. He understood me, and I guess I just thought he understood more than I really told him?"

"That's good, Harry. Do you see the difference? You imposed your feelings onto his actions. Were you ever aware that you were doing this?"

He pinched the bridge of his nose, the truth heavy on his conscience. "Yes, probably initially. Maybe when he first told me he was straight. But then he was so... I don't know... friendly. He touched me, all the time. I see now that it was still just friendly, but perhaps I read more into it because we had such an affinity because of the self-harm thing?"

"I can't answer that for you, but I expect you're right. Til tomorrow, I want you to go over those incidents, and try and separate out the fact from what you wanted to see." Felicity waved her wand in the now familiar pattern, measuring the stability of Harry's magic. "Good, good..." she made a note on her chart. "If you keep progressing like this, I think we can try with your wand again in a few days."

Harry's face brightened. Since breaking the three windows in the ward, Madam Pomfrey had been reluctant to let him use his wand for even the simplest of charms. "Thanks, Felicity. I know I've got a long way to go, but I finally feel like there's light at the end of the tunnel."

"Yes, well, you're right. There _is_ a long way to go. Tomorrow we'll discuss your longer term treatment. You'll also need to make a decision about your NEWTs, but we can talk about that tomorrow too."

"Actually, I've already decided. I'm not going to take them. I want to focus on getting better, and if I'm stressing about exams, I just don't think I'll be able to cope with all that as well."

Felicity eyed him appraisingly. "A wise decision, Harry. Perhaps you could think about what you'd like to do in the meantime. Being idle could be just as damaging if you don't have anything constructive to do."

Harry nodded. "I'll think about it. Thank you again."

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow morning. Goodbye, Harry." Felicity swept from Madam Pomfrey's office.

Feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time, and buoyed by the knowledge he might be reunited with his wand soon, Harry left the office with a lighter step.

Once his wounds finally healed, though some scarring remained, and his magic stabilised, Madam Pomfrey was willing to let Harry leave the hospital wing for short periods four weeks after his hospitalisation. He had to agree to never be on his own, but it was wonderful to get outside again. Today he was going flying with Ron, and he couldn't wait to feel the late spring air on his face, the rush of being on a broom.

Two weeks after being admitted to the hospital wing, Ron had finally opened up to Harry about his behaviour. "Harry, you pulled away from us, and I didn't know what to do. Then you broke up with Gin, and mate, she's my sister. I thought we were going to be brothers. I had to be there for her, and she was so angry, and I didn't know what to do."

"I know, Ron. I understood then. It's what happened after Christmas that I don't get. When you went at me in potions that day..."

"I know," Ron said quietly, his voice infused with guilt. "I think maybe it finally drove home to me that it really was over between you and Gin. I didn't really believe it after you broke up, neither did she. And maybe I was a bit mad that if all happened the way it did. I felt like you kept me in the dark, you know?"

"Yeah, 'Mione's already had a go at me for keeping it all to myself. But if that's all it was, why did you punch me? That was uncalled for, even for you, Ron," Harry said sadly.

"I know, not one of my finest moments, right?" he said with a humourless chuckle. "It was Malfoy that made me snap." Harry bristled. "I know, Hermione told me not to talk about him, but if you really want to understand..."

Harry made a visible effort to relax. While he had made progress with Felicity, he was still uncomfortable talking about Draco with anyone else. "It's ok, Ron, probably best to deal with it now."

"Ok, but let me know if you want me to stop. I don't want to upset you." Harry nodded for Ron to proceed. "I know I started it, but it hurt when he stood up for you. I mean, his dad planted that diary on Ginny, he tried to kill us in the Room of Requirement. I couldn't understand why you were friends. Why you _are_ friends. I still don't really get it."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure I get it either Ron, but we understand each other, or at least, we did..." he drifted off.

"Anyway, I don't know if that explains it, but for what it's worth, I'm really sorry. I was angry, but I never wanted anything like this to happen."

"I guess I know that now, Ron. I've still got a ways to go, but thanks for finally being here. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry I cut you out as well. It's no excuse, but I was in a pretty dark place. You were still grieving for Fred, and I just didn't know how to talk to anyone."

Ron gave Harry an awkward pat on the back. "We're good now?"

"Yeah, we're good, Ron." Tired of the heavy talk, he changed the topic. "Do you reckon Pomfrey will let me go flying?"

That was how they found themselves standing on the almost repaired Quidditch pitch on a sunny late spring Saturday. Hermione had consented to Ron taking a break from his studies, though was herself sequestered in the library, poring over study notes and textbooks.

Feeling the sun on his back, and a light breeze in his hair, Harry mounted his broom and pushed off. Merlin, it was good to fly again.

**~TBC~**


	12. Chapter 12

It was two weeks before the end of year exams, and Harry was walking the grounds with Felicity. Happy with his progress, she had reduced the frequency of his sessions to twice a week, and depending on the outcome of today's activity, she hoped this would be one of the last.

"Have you given any thought to what you will do over the summer?" she asked.

"Well, yes, actually. Ron's brother, Charlie, works with dragons in Romania. Ron said he was looking for some help over the holidays because one of his assistants is going on his honeymoon. It's mostly manual labour, but I don't need any qualifications."

Felicity nodded, and sat down on a bench in the courtyard, gesturing Harry to join her. "How do you feel about being so far away from your friends?"

A small frown appeared between Harry's eyebrows. "I'll miss them, of course, but Charlie's great. I was actually thinking some distance might be good, I don't know, to clear my head? Maybe get some perspective?"

Pleased with his response, Felicity smiled. "Yes, some distance would probably be wise. Just be aware, Harry, that it will most likely not change how you feel. If you meet up with Draco again when you return, the feelings may still be there, possibly stronger initially."

Harry sighed. "I can hope, but I expect you're right. Do you think I'll ever be able to let go?"

Felicity glanced up. "I don't know, Harry, but I hope this will help."

"Harry?"

Harry's head shot up, his heart leapt into his throat at the sound of Draco's voice. "Malf... Draco, what are you doing here?" The overwhelming flood of emotions threatened to consume him, and he put his head between his knees, fighting to take deep, steady breaths, as Felicity had taught him to do whenever he felt the stress was too great.

Draco shuffled his feet nervously. "I..." his gaze flicked to the Healer. "Granger asked me to... I thought," he stuttered, his usually confident manner had fled.

"Harry, Miss Granger suggested to me that it could be helpful to you to speak with Mr. Malfoy, see if you can't try and find some closure with regards to certain events. I agreed, and asked Mr. Malfoy if he would be willing to speak with you." She reached out and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "If you feel you cannot do this at this time, we can try again another day, but with the approach of the exams and holidays, it would be prudent to confront this soon."

Harry took in a deep, shuddering breath to steel himself and sat up. "If you believe it will help, I'll try."

"Yes, Harry. I think it will help. Harry, Mr. Malfoy, would you like me to stay or give you some privacy?"

Draco visibly relaxed. "Some privacy would be good. If it's alright with Harry."

"I guess... can you stay close?" he asked Felicity uncertainly, as he felt his magic prickle under his skin.

"Certainly." She gave his shoulder another squeeze and walked to the other end of the courtyard, out of hearing distance but close enough to observe.

"May I sit?" Draco asked hesitantly.

"Sure," Harry said as he felt an odd ripple run along the scars on his arm. He was grateful when Draco chose a seat a couple of feet away.

"I'm not sure exactly what Healer Redfern wants us to achieve here, but for what it's worth, I'm sorry I left things the way I did." Harry felt his throat tighten as the familiar feelings of hurt and rejection resurfaced. "If I hadn't made sure Longbottom checked on you after I left..." Draco paused, and pain flickered over his face.

"Why, Draco?" Harry burst out. "Why did you care what happened to me? Why did you follow me in the first place?"

Draco laughed humourlessly. "I suppose saying turnabout's fair play wouldn't cut it?" Harry shook his head. "No, I didn't think so." He fell silent for a few moments. He cast a surreptitious glance at Felicity, and then pulled out a cigarette from his robes, lit it and inhaled deeply. "I saw some of myself in you."

Harry snorted. "We're nothing alike."

"For the most part, no, we're not," Draco agreed. "But we both had expectations of others foisted upon us from a young age, a lot of them unreasonable. The main difference was essentially that where I failed, you succeeded." He took another drag from the cigarette while Harry pondered his words.

Finally Harry spoke. "You still had a choice," he whispered.

"So did you," Draco said drily.

"I couldn't do nothing, I couldn't let everyone else suffer..."

"And I couldn't leave the fate of my parents to that evil bastard. We both made the choice to try and protect those we loved."

"I suppose," Harry allowed. "But what does that have to do with what you did this year?"

Draco sighed, and stubbed out the cigarette. "I just felt... an affinity with you. I saw you, when you were stressed, you'd scratch your arm. The others didn't notice, but I did. I should know the signs, after all. You did so much for me, for everyone. It didn't seem right that after all you did, you were suffering alone." He pulled another cigarette from his robes, but did not light it, instead he rolled it between his fingers. "Then we started talking, and I realised that I actually liked you."

Harry looked up in surprise, trying to tamp down the flash of hope. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"Well, despite the fact that you're an uncultured half-blood, you're actually pretty smart and fun to be around," Draco smirked. "When you're not beating your fists or head against the boathouse wall, of course," he clarified with a grin. "You surprised me, initially I felt I owed something to you after what you did for me and Mother, but you became more than an obligation, you became my friend." His grin turned into a full-on smile.

The smile on Draco's face and the words he uttered sent a dagger piercing through Harry's heart. He loved this boy, but he began to realise that it would forever be one-sided. The prickle under his skin increased, concentrated under his scars. He started to tremble. "I'm sorry, Draco. I need you to go." He flinched when Draco reached out and touched his arm. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "Please, go."

Draco stood, and wavered uncertainly for a moment, pain in his eyes. "Harry..."

"Please, Draco. Call Felicity... Healer Redfern! Only she can help," he choked out, the fact he was obviously causing his friend pain slicing him open further. His scars began to burn and his stomach twisted in knots. Tears pricked at his eyes.

"Healer," Draco called out urgently, only to see she was already making her way across the courtyard.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I think it would be best if you left now. I need to see to my patient."

He glanced uncertainly between Harry and the Healer. "It's alright, Draco. Felicity will know what to do," Harry gasped.

Draco nodded and strode briskly from the courtyard, casting one last glance over his shoulder before he entered the castle. It wasn't until he was gone that Harry noticed the intact cigarette lying on the ground by his feet.

**~TBC~**


	13. Chapter 13

Harry sat in Madam Pomfrey's office, looking around at the furnishings. Two weeks ago he had thought he wouldn't see the inside of this room again, until that fateful meeting with Draco in the courtyard. He felt a pang of disappointment, knowing his friends were starting their exams at this very minute. He was supposed to be with them, but as usual, nothing in his life ever turned out normal.

He stuck his hand into his pocket, fingering the mangled cigarette he had stashed there. It wouldn't last much longer, despite how many times he had cast a _Reparo_ as it slowly deteriorated. Felicity had just left, after Harry promised to contact her by Floo or Owl if he ever needed. He took a few moments to gather his thoughts before leaving Pomfrey's office, and thought back to his panic attack and the events that followed. Felicity had cast a few spells, working to stabilise his magic again, until he was able to return to the hospital wing. Harry had been furious to learn that Felicity had expected, and had actually engineered the meeting to try and provoke such a reaction from him. He had refused to speak with her for two days, only relenting when Hermione pointed out that while he had intellectually acknowledged that Draco was straight, he hadn't really absorbed it.

Despite agreeing to resume his sessions with Felicity, he sat stony-faced in the next session, refusing to cooperate. It took another three daily sessions before Harry could understand her reasoning behind her actions, and another two before he felt some form of acceptance. The arrival of the _Daily Prophet_ on Saturday had the potential to trigger another set-back, with the engagement announcement of Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass, the wedding to take place in September. Hermione showed him the listing with some trepidation, relieved when he only sighed, placing the article face down on the bed and walked over to the window, staring out at nothing. He didn't speak to anyone for another day, grieving in silence.

It was another visit from Neville that finally snapped him out of his depression. Here was a prime example of someone _living_ , despite yearning for someone they couldn't have. Neville brought with him a scroll, tied with a strip of dragonhide.

"Here you go, Harry, Ron said this might cheer you up."

Harry undid the dragonhide, setting it aside carefully, and unrolled the parchment. "It's from Charlie. Details of my trip to Romania!" A flash of hope surged through him, he finally had something to look forward to. "He's arranging an international Portkey for me two days after the end of term. I'm to stay at the Burrow with Ron til then."

"How long will you be staying in Romania?" Neville asked.

He read through the rest of the letter and picked out the relevant details. "I have a return Portkey on the twentieth of August, just in time to sit my NEWTs. He's even arranged for one of the Handlers to tutor me twice a week to make sure I'm all caught up. That will make Hermione happy."

"That's good, Harry, I know you need some space, but I don't think it would be good for you to stay away too long."

Harry looked up at Neville. "He's negotiated an apprenticeship for me, if I decide to stay and my NEWTs are good enough..." he said, his voice infused with awe and not a little trepidation.

Neville drew in a deep breath. "Wow, Harry, that's a big change. I thought you wanted to be an Auror?"

"I did, I guess. A lot's changed since then, I think I've had enough of fighting the bad guys." Harry put the parchment down, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. "I'm not the same person I was before the war, Nev. I can say with a fair amount of certainty that I don't want to be an Auror anymore, but whether I want to work with dragons... I suppose it's something I can consider while I'm helping Charlie."

"It's a fairly lonely career, Harry. Do you think you could handle being isolated long-term?"

Harry sat back and considered the question. "Given the way everyone behaves when I'm in public," he grimaced, "I think being isolated could be good for me. The dragons won't care if I am 'The Boy Who Lived'. I suppose the prospect of being in a lonely career doesn't really deter me," he concluded. "Not that I'm really in a place to make any decisions at the moment. I still need to sit my NEWTs. And who knows, I could spend a week there and hate it!" he finished, unconvincingly.

"I don't think you'll hate it, Harry. Sounds like you're looking forward to it quite a bit. Just don't use this opportunity as a means to run away from your problems," Neville said quietly, a flicker of sadness in his eyes.

Harry put the scroll down and picked up the strip of dragonhide, running his fingers across the surface. "Thanks, Neville. I am looking forward to it. And I'm not running away. Well, maybe a little, but it's 'Healer-endorsed'!" he joked. "In all seriousness though, I just get this feeling that it's going to be good for me, you know? Like there's something waiting for me there." He shrugged, not quite sure how to express himself better.

Letting his thoughts drift back to the present, Harry stood and took one last look around Pomfrey's office. Today he would leave the hospital wing and return to the Gryffindor dorm for the final week of term. Felicity had ensured that his magic was well under control, and determined it would be good for Harry to spend these last few days with his friends, even though they would be busy with study and exams.

Harry walked over to the bed that had been his for weeks and grabbed his bag, taking a moment to make sure he had left nothing behind. He took a deep breath, steeled himself and left the hospital wing, walking with more confidence than he had felt since defeating Voldemort.

**~TBC~**


	14. Chapter 14

Harry mingled with the other students on Platform 9 ¾, feeling a sense of nostalgia as the enormity of this day sank in. He took a moment to look around him, memorising faces, observing happy smiles and more than a few tears. Hagrid had said his farewell earlier in the day, eliciting a promise of many owls from Harry while he was in Romania. Seamus and Dean approached him together, both planting sloppy wet kisses on his cheeks, draping a feather boa around his neck. "Make sure you check out some of those clubs in Romania, Harry, we want details when you get back!" Dean snickered, teasing Harry playfully.

"I'm going to be working with _dragons_ , you idiots! I don't think there's any gay clubs near the reserve, wizarding or otherwise!" Harry laughed, planting equally sloppy kisses on the boys' cheeks and giving Seamus a pinch on the arse. Seamus glared at him, but only maintained the stern look for a few seconds before joining the laughter.

"We'll see you in a few weeks then?"

"Maybe," Harry offered non-committally. "Ron and Hermione can keep you up to date, though I'll try to owl when I can." Accosted by Lavender and Parvati, he waved goodbye to Dean and Seamus who moved on to farewell others.

Harry accepted a hug from each of the girls, awkwardly trying to reassure them that he had forgiven them for the gossip after he kissed Goldstein. "Seriously, I'm fine," he insisted after another apology. "It's in the past, don't worry about it."

"Good luck, Harry," the girls said in unison before they joined another group of teary girls saying goodbye.

Harry felt the weight of the day bearing down on him, and scanned the crowd to find the Weasleys.

"Harry, do you have a moment?" He turned to face Draco, who was standing next to an attractive young girl. Narcissa Malfoy and another woman stood a little distance off, observing Draco closely.

"Sure," Harry whispered, clearing his throat and trying again. "Sure, Draco. I have to find the Weasleys soon though."

Draco nodded, then gestured to the girl with him. "Harry, I'd like to introduce you to my fiancée. This is Astoria Greengrass. Astoria, this is my good friend, Harry Potter."

Astoria offered her hand to Harry. A prickle of magic flared under his skin, but Harry was able to conceal the pain. "Miss Greengrass, it's a pleasure to meet you," he took her hand and shook it politely. "Congratulations on your engagement. I wish you both happiness."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter. A pleasure to meet you too," she said graciously. Draco whispered something in her ear, then kissed her gently on the cheek. "Forgive me, Mr. Potter. I must speak with Mother. I do hope we will see you again?" With that, she left.

"You didn't have to do that, Draco," Harry said softly.

"I know. I just wanted to say goodbye, and wish you safe travels."

"Thanks." His magic prickled a little more, and it took some effort to keep his hands steady. "I do mean it though, I hope you find happiness together."

"I know, Harry. I'm..." Draco struggled to find the right words.

"It's alright, Draco, I know."

"Do you know when you'll be back from Romania? I don't know if you want to be there, but I would be honoured if you would attend the wedding."

It took every ounce of strength to maintain his composure. "Draco, I really don't know if that would be wise. I just don't... think it would be wise," he finished somewhat lamely.

"Of course. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to distress you. You're my friend, Harry, and while it would be good if you could attend, I don't wish you any discomfort." He held out his hand. "'Til we meet again, then?"

Harry looked at Draco's hand for a moment, and seemed to come to a decision. "Yes, Draco, I'm your friend. Whatever I can do, I will." He shook Draco's hand, and then pulled him into a hug. "Thank you," he said fervently. "You helped me through a difficult time, I will forever be grateful. I really do wish you the best. The very best."

Draco returned the hug for a moment, then pulled away, conscious of his mother observing. "Best of luck, Harry." He offered Harry a small smile, before making his way to Astoria.

Harry watched Draco's retreating back, his heart heavy. Hermione's voice calling his name broke through and he turned to her. "You alright, Harry?" she asked, concerned.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "It all ends, doesn't it, 'Mione?"

"Everything ends eventually, Harry," she said, wrapping her arm over his shoulders. "But with endings come beginnings too."

Harry considered that for a moment. "I suppose sometimes we have to say goodbye to some things, set them free. Endings and beginnings, I like that."

"Come on, you two! Mum and Dad are ready to go." Ron gave Harry a playful shove, then stood on the other side of Hermione and wrapped his arm around her waist, steering his two friends to the barrier. "Charlie said Norberta's waiting for you in Romania!"

Harry straightened up, feeling a little brighter. He turned and took one last look at the Hogwarts Express and Platform 9¾.

**~Fin~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a sequel to this story in the works called "Less Than Perfect". It will be a much longer story, with plenty of angst thrown in. Keep an eye out. Thanks for reading!


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